Every Now & Then
by Tutups
Summary: Post BD, Edward POV. Mentions of slash tiny-not explicit. Major angst! Moderate fantasy violence- quite vivid, not gory. *One swear*. 09 xmas fic. If any interest- may continue, R&R and let me know please.


**Every now and then (T) . Response to CULLEN CHRSITMAS FANFIC CONTEST! by twilightaddict14.**

**As in book any words in Italic are shared thoughts.**

**Edward's POV throughout.**

**AN- Sorry! i broke the rules with one swear!!! Sorry!**

* * *

THEN

I couldn't quite believe it was only our second Christmas. My wife was literally the most exquisite specimen on the planet, a title she only just beat my daughter to because my daughter was my daughter and I loved her in a different, conceivably more powerful manner.

That was the first Christmas I had it all, the first Christmas I felt totally complete with no imminent threat hanging over me.

I remember sitting there just soaking up the atmosphere on Christmas morning. It was perfect; even though I was on the two feet of snow in our garden being pelted with said snow by my infinitely zany family.

On every other day of the year Carlisle would only be seen immaculately dressed and totally restrained, but at Christmas he seemed to come out of himself and you could very easily imagine him as twenty three years old without a care in the world. Not vulgar like some but innocently happy, palpably content and incapable of keeping his hands of Esme for too long which naturally produced several raised eyebrows, smirks and (in the cases of Emmet and Jacob) merciless wolf whistles and innuendo.

In truth he was the only father I ever acknowledged, and beyond doubt the best I had ever met. He was more than a father to me; he was a mentor, a companion and a brother in every way that counted. I used to count my own blessings that he found me, that he was a man of honour; one who kept his promises. Even in the early years of resentment and more than a little bitterness; deep down I was eternally obliged to him for everything, some of which I could never had thanked him enough for; however hard I tried.

Considering him meant I would inexorably turn my thoughts to Edward Masen Senior; my biological father, or _'The Sperm Donor'_ as I had become accustomed to calling him; among an eclectic variety of expletives. The thought of the useless waste of blood and organs to whom (however obliquely) I owed my life would have formed bile in my throat and probably encased me in a cold sweat to rival the one I had suffered in the days prior to my human death, had my body not been that of a vampire.

Next my thoughts turned to his wife; my biological mother. A saint of a woman who to all intents and purposes was the reason I was breathing clean air instead of decaying in some dark depression of hell somewhere for my human crimes alongside 'The Sperm Donor'.

And of course, to think of her was to smile sadly and direct my thoughts by the way Esme to distract myself from brooding too much over the Christmas period; a crime punishable by being wrapped in tinsel until I got over myself, as I had learnt previously, to my obvious appreciation and substantial alarm.

Esme was simply Esme; I had first introduced her as my mother to my wife when she had been my girlfriend. That was an inference which she had appreciated greatly and lived up to every day by partaking of the little things like judging looks in the morning and frequent (albeit unnecessary) worries over my health and happiness.

_Mothers! What can you do?_

If mothers could be bad, then brothers were definitely worse, a lot worse. Jasper and Emmet (Jazz and Emm to my daughter when she had been young enough and then to us because the monikers stuck) can be the best and worse people on the planet. Emm had a way of viewing the world which I couldn't help envy; he was the most laid back person you could find anywhere, yet he was one of the most loyal, caring (in his own way) people you could ever meet.

Yeah, I guess I should address that before I tell you about Jazz. I refer to them as people, to the collective as a family, and I have good reason. We have formed true bonds of love in the years we have been together; more so than any coven (besides perhaps the Denali sisters). Our abhorrence to the slaughter of humans is something we owe Carlisle, many of us have some reason or other for that revulsion to be natural but it was Carlisle who made it possible. If our consciences might have whispered to us, then Carlisle's actions, quiet demeanour and gentle persuasion definitely increased the volume of said internal whispers to a volume that they might be heard.

Jasper, he's rather hard to describe without giving the wrong impression. Yes he struggled with bloodlust, which in my opinion actually made him better than most when his resistance was tested but held fast, but he was one of the most humane of us, he developed a conscience entirely alone, with no outside influence, only Carlisle and Rosalie could make that claim in all honesty, the rest of us all slipped at least once, even Bella eventually. Jasper was always distant unless he was needed when he would spring into action, never asking for thanks. Another to whom I owe an immense debt of gratitude.

Even though I was (aside from Carlisle) the oldest of us by at least a decade or more I was always the little brother of the family, my tender age when I was turned at just seventeen meant that for a long time Alice and Rosalie (my 'older' sisters) were the banes of my existence.

Rose was always a sister to me, and no amount of wishing otherwise could change that; both she, Carlisle and Esme tried. That decade was awkward. I could understand the attraction most members of the male gender felt towards her, but I couldn't relate to it. I remember the first thought Emmet had when he laid eyes on Rose; the phrase 'died and gone to heaven' didn't have a patch on it.

If Alice yelled any louder we would have to replace all the double glazing in a three mile radius of her. The pixie was in some incredibly overpriced piece of cloth (it was too small and revealing to call clothes… if I ever saw my daughter in something like that I wouldn't be held responsible for my actions; temporary insanity would be close enough to the truth to get me off on a caution… I wish, I'd have to join the queue if Jacob Black saw it first, the possibilities were endless…

We were quite the motley crew, but I wouldn't have had it any other- bluerh!

"ALICE!"

That girl did not value her life, at least not on Christmas morning in two feet of snow.

The snowball was flying across the garden in a matter of seconds.

"EDWARD!"

I ducked instinctively. "Sorry Bella!"

I could hear Carlisle and Esme laughing in the house, although whether about me or not, I didn't really want to know, Rose and Emmet weren't even bothering to be discreet and it was too good a chance to pass up…

"OI! The forest is thin enough you two!"

"DAD!"

We were off, with nothing to stop us. We had the rest of eternity to enjoy… or so we thought.

I can't quite believe that was just one year ago, one year of living hell…

Carlisle lost it; I've never seen such a fast and destructive downward spiral, it rivalled my own.

I can remember every second of that day.

Within minutes of giving up on the snow and finding our way inside the unthinkable happened; there had always been a danger of it, but we expected to be primed, we expected to have a fighting chance; we didn't expect to be annihilated.

Their approach was peaceful enough and all their thoughts were serene, as if they were simply visiting, passing through.

Even with the body of a vampire my gut still clenches at the thought; in remembrance of my own naivety.

They took Bella first, tore her apart without a second thought and not a shred of compunction, _bastards!_

Emmet beat me to her, he was closer, an easier target in hindsight. It took two of them to take him; not only because of his strength but because within second of Rosalie seeing it she attacked, I had never seen anything like it. She was feral in her attack and stirred in me an emotion that I barley recognised. It took seconds before the old Edward surfaced, the vigilante, the murder, the hidden being that could kill without a second thought, who exulted in the death of his enemies.

Then it came to me, clearly a fabrication of my imagination but a consolation nevertheless, her voice, crystal clear; one word. Rénesme.

I hadn't realised but she was screaming in my arms, fighting for freedom from my embrace; I clung to her even harder, refusing to allow her to leave me.

"NO!" in any other circumstance I would have let go, but my gut feeling told me if I let her go we would both die, and besides; with her there the monster in me could do no more than observe.

I watched in absolute revulsion and shock as Emmett's last thought drifted into my head and I realised that he believed he was dying for a cause, but it was in vain.

Within seconds Dimitri had her pinned to the ground and in a few more she was in pieces.

Jacob's howl ripped through the room as Jane attacked him; it took only a second for my daughter to break my hold on her. For a moment I saw no difference between them, Rénesme with the body of a seven year old matching Jane's every movement, mirroring her in the deadliest of dances. I heard her intention milliseconds before it happened, but they were all I needed. My body moved of its own accord; shielding my daughter from Jane's brutal powers and attacking said evil being simultaneously.

The pain was worse than I remembered and this time I did not endure so well, a scream erupted from me as the numbness of the seconds since my wife's violent murder was obliterated. As my knees collapsed I became acutely aware of Jacob's deep holler pulling my daughter away from the pandemonium to relative safety.

Carlisle had never been vociferous, I had never even heard him raise his voice but the sound that emanated from his vicinity was to be the last coherent noise he ever made; mentally or physically.

_I _actually couldn't move, the agony ripped through me in waves sending shocks through my muscles and causing pain in places I had only ever read about.

I lay incompetent as my family were slaughtered around me. I was dimly aware of Jasper's last, wasted stand and Jacob's inadequate endeavours to protect my daughter as well as Esme's guttural wail as she suffered the fate of death.

But all of that, it was nothing to Carlisle's reaction; he simply stopped, he ceded to them, I felt nauseous as I listened to his internal, far from coherent monologue.

And then it stopped and I was embraced in a dense obscurity that none could penetrate.

The sudden light blinded me more than the darkness yet I found myself incapable of moving. Then I saw it, vaguely as though my mind was attempting to shield me from it.

Bella, Emmet, Rosalie, Jasper, Esme, Jacob, Rénesme. All of them; massacred and awaiting burning.

I remember my body taking over me as I unfastened myself from Carlisle and Alice and stood. I braced myself for the onslaught of pain, waiting to be killed for my defiance. Carlisle's wracked sobs were like a machine gun in my ears, Alice's thoughts like a stuck record.

_… __… _

I blocked it out, each name like a sword to my heart; like venom burning in my mind.

I've little recollection of the consequences of my actions, of the sham of a trial we were put to, barley aware of Alice's petition for clemency on Carlisle's behalf; on my behalf.

NOW

Yet here I am, tending to my father; hunting for him, clinging to him, fearing for him.

In one year he has never uttered so much as a coherent word, his mind is excruciatingly empty, like a newborn child he is incapable of expressing himself and is commonly to be found inconsolable.

Every day I beg his forgiveness as I pollute him with human blood; the only sustenance available to us now. Every day I pray he will arise from his stupor and regain his old character. Every day I wish for the impossible.

Every day I am more certain the God has forsaken us; that God is becoming more and more distant, that God simply doesn't care.

Every day I find myself inconsolable.

Alice is my only link to the world outside this room; she plays the subservient member of the Volturi far too easily, I sometimes wonder if she truly belongs to them. Then I tell myself to stop being so ungrateful, then I remember the absolute horror her mind projected as she watched Jasper die, then I find myself more and more agitated until she reappears.

I see only two different rooms. This one is my home; everything I hold dear resides here.

The other is a torture chamber, my own personal hell.

Caius, Marcus, Aro; any one of them may choose to use me, to partake of unimaginable sins of the flesh while I must remain docile and respectful. They enjoy the sound of my screams. Aro prefers to simply invade my mind. Marcus is unique; he enjoys forcing me into submission, breaking my will. Caius is kinder, and perhaps more cruel than the others combined; he is gentle, playful and shows no outward aggression yet he treats me like a business dealing, forcing me to do things the others could never dream of, even if they had the capability to sleep.

Alec is my jailer, exclusively responsible for me; on his word I could be punished or even killed.

Jane is my handler, my controller, she is their eye and ear in this place and she ensures I am aware of it.

This is my life and I have never so much wished for death.

* * *

**2378 words**

_**I DO NOT OWN TWILIGHT**_

Compliments to Stephanie


End file.
